Judgement Day
by llama-monster
Summary: A moral tale. Please don't judge this based on the name. It really has a good point to make.


There was no poetry here; no beauty or heavenly light. Only one, withered tree marked the scorched landscape. The tree provided shelter for a youth. His dark, south Asian skin was clean shaven and wrapped in a dark purple robe. He sat with no chair, but took comfort in the solid, barren rock beneath him. Almond-shaped eyes stared out of his head with grey, hard indifference.

At the wave of a dark hand, the soil opened up in front of him, giving birth to the most unlikely of crops: human beings. They stood, row upon row, filling the space all the way to the horizon. There they stood: all those to be judged. Still, the youth was coldly indifferent.

Many of the recently resurrected, however, bore no such air of calm. Although none panicked, many looked anxious and confused.

_No matter, _thought the purple-garbed Judge. _They will soon understand…_

Under the light of the eternally setting sun, the first of the resurrected was beckoned. Unlike the majority of the infinite hosts assembled, this one wore no mask of fear. He wore a black suit with a white collar. His hair was neatly cut and his stride was proud. He moved out of the front row to face The Judge.

The youth spoke, his voice far deeper and older than his form: "I will not ask your name, for a name does not make a person. _Ego sum Deus, et es homo. _Name your deeds that are worthy of reward!" The words echoed through the empty air, reverberating through every body and every soul.

The one who had been beckoned thought for a moment: his thoughts elsewhere.

A Cathedral, filled with the ancient and haunting songs of the Roman Empire, melted into view in the man's mind. He remembered the feeling of oneness he had had as he joined the ancient songs.

The reply came from the darkly-garbed man, his voice significantly less impressive than that of The Judge. "I praised you, O Lord, and your son, the Christ, the Redeemer. _Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritus Sancto!" _

A hollow laugh escaped the full lips of the youth. "But," He said, "you did not care to give praise to my other children. You gave no praise to the ones who came before and after the one they call The Christ. You let only one Redeemer speak to you, shutting all the others out.

"Where was your love of the Saviour?"

The suited man stammered. He was at a loss for words. He was certain that his first answer had been correct!

"I will give you the comfort of knowing that there is yet another chance, my son. You shall live again and see the light. Until then, you shall not know Paradise."

The earth bubbled and boiled, swallowing up the man who had proved himself insufficient. His look of shock and confusion remained on his face until it sank beneath the stone. Still, the youth bore his empty expression with its cold, hard indifference.

Again, a dark hand was raised, and a halo of light engulfed a dark man with a long, scraggly beard. Compelled, he moved forward, directly onto the spot where the last man had been. He looked down on what had so recently been a lake of bubbling rock and winced.

The youth's expression never faltered. His voice rang out again over the assembly: "I will not ask your name, for a name does not make a person. _Ego sum Deus, et es homo. _Name your deeds that are worthy of reward!"

The dark man thought back and his brightest memories surfaced above all the rest. The bright lights reflecting of the polished, black stone appeared in his mind. He remembered the countless times he had prostrated and spoken the words: _Subhanna Rubiddal Allah, Subhannah Rubiddal Allah, Subhanna Rubbidal Allah. _He smiled, averting his eyes, looking down at the ground beneath his feet.

His reply came, dwarfed by the majesty of the voice that had come before it: "I testify that there is no God but the Lord and Muhammad was his slave and messenger. I observed your commands to the best of my ability and upheld the five pillars of faith. I gave my Salaat to you, O Lord."

Again, the scolding reply came from The Judge: "Yet you serve out of fear. Your praise was empty and passionless. You took no joy from the life that I had given you. Why did you waste it all on your mutterings?

"Where was your love of the Saviour?" Although the words were harsh, the voice was level and cool.

The dark, bearded man looked stunned, as had the man before him. He could think of nothing more to say.

The youth spoke again, his voice shaking the foundations of the heart and bringing tears to the eyes of all there assembled: "I will give you the comfort of knowing that there is yet another chance, my son. You shall live again and see the light. Until then, you shall not know Paradise."

The earth bubbled and boiled, swallowing up the man who had proved himself insufficient. As the ground embraced him, his face was pensive, contemplating his faith: what mistake could he possibly have made?

A third time the hand was raised and the light of the eternally dying sun reflected off his moist, brown skin. A short, thin man with carefully trimmed hair and casual clothing was illuminated in the front row. He stepped forward, compelled by some unknown and unknowable force.

The Judge repeated his address: "I will not ask your name, for a name does not make a person. _Ego sum Deus, et es homo. _Name your deeds that are worthy of reward!"

The man before the youth was silent, reflecting quietly for a long time.

There was a summer night, warm and still. The man was walking on the beach barefoot, looking at the moonlight and starlight reflecting on the water, still as glass. But there was someone there beside him: a woman, only slightly shorter than himself, with golden hair that reflected the moonlight. He caressed her cheek and ran his finger under her chin, pulling her face to his. No moment had ever held, nor could ever hold so much beauty.

The man stood squarely on the place to which he had been compelled. He was so sure. Nothing he had ever done had felt as right as had that moment with her. He looked up, staring the youth straight in the smooth, flawless face.

"I," said the man. "Have done only one thing in my life worthy of praise. I have loved."

All those assembled held their breath, held spellbound by the silence that permeated the air with its pregnancy.

After a moment; a very long moment, The Judge's eyes softened. The light from the eternally dying sun shimmered in his liquid eyes. For the first time, a slight but sweet smile crossed his face.

"My son," he said, his voice swelling softly and gently. "You truly have not squandered the gift that I have given you. You have done the most noble of all deeds. You are truly deserving of reward. You never left your Paradise."


End file.
